


Drop The Puck, Drop The Gloves, Drop The Pretenses

by silveradept



Category: Humans Are Space Orcs (Meme)
Genre: Fist Fights, Gen, Girls' Night, That Feeling When You Realize You're Sitting Next To Aliens That Might Turn Homicidal At Any Moment, Women's Ice Hockey, ice hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/pseuds/silveradept
Summary: Katebrica's been invited to watch the holobroacast of an important ice hockey game for research on ver thesis about human interactions. When there's a dirty hit in the game, Katebrica realizes that humans are a very complex species to try and study.
Relationships: Doctor Fawkes & Jasmine Kerrigan & Yuri Swift, Katebrica & Yuri Swift
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Drop The Puck, Drop The Gloves, Drop The Pretenses

**Author's Note:**

> A rejected idea for Yuletide 2020, because it strayed into DNW territory for the intended recipient as I was trying to flesh it out. But it's complete enough to stand on its own, so it gets posted.

Chronometer 17:50, Twenty-third Revolution, Ninth Cycle, Fifteenth Orbit of the Reign of Korkalei and Arnathaya, May Their Reign Be Long:

"Heads up!" one of the humans shouted as we entered the quarters. A fast-moving object streaked across my field of vision as Engineer Swift reached a hand into the air and intercepted the projectile while keeping her body oriented towards the large group of humans already gathered around a holoscreen.

"Getting started early, I see," Engineer Swift replied to the group of humans from where the object had come from, after examining the label upon it. Turning to face me, her smile was immediately replaced by a look of concern. "Kate? Are you okay? You're puffed up like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

"I am…in no danger," I replied, as I tried to settle myself back into a neutral state. "The thrown object startled me."

"Oh, shit, that's right," she said, striking their forehead with the heel of her palm. "You don't see as well as we do. I'm sorry."

"It is part of the learning experience," I replied. "I do not wish for you to change your behaviors because I am here."

"Yeah, but scaring the droppings out of someone is a bad way to make a first impression."

Reflexively, I checked to make sure I had not soiled the ground underneath me.

"I'd offer you a beer as an apology, but I can't remember if it would poison you," Engineer Swift said, executing a maneuver with her digits to try and remove the lid on the bottle. "Ow," she said, after a short attempt. "Whose brilliant idea was it to get bottles that aren't twist-off?"

"Yours," Doctor Fawkes said from the holoscreen area, expressing amusement in her voice. "You were complaining we needed to class the joint up last time."

"I said we needed a classier drink than Stewart's piss-water for this. I didn't mean we needed something that required a goddamn church key to get open." Reaching into a pocket, Engineer Swift produced a multi-tool and began to prise open the cap with the point of the knife blade contained within. Within seconds, the cap was off the bottle and Engineer Swift was drinking the amber liquid within. I felt slightly proud that I had not vocalized my surprise at the Engineer's lack of care for her own safety in using the knife so close to her own eyes. Startling her could have led to further injury.

"Katebrica, would you like to perch?" Dr. Fawkes said, indicating a space at the end of the couch. "Jazz won't mind if I lay my tail behind her, and that will give you an unobstructed view of the holo."

"Thank you for your kindness," I replied, taking the offered space. 

"Did we miss anything, Jazz?" Engineer Swift said, finding a spot on the floor.

"Just got done with the anthems when you arrived," Botanist Kerrigan said. "The talking heads will be going for another ten minutes, I'm sure." A chorus of annoyed sounds erupted from the other participants.

"While we wait, does anyone want to explain hockey to Kate again?" Engineer Swift said. "Ve had a lot of questions the last time, although most of them seemed to revolve around why we think it's a good idea to stand on sharp knives on top of a slippery surface and use sticks and bodies to beat each other and occasionally fling a puck of vulcanized rubber at hundreds of kilometers per hour."

"I assume you said, 'Because it's fun' and left it at that," Botanist Kerrigan said, giving a small laugh.

"I did not. I played juniors for a couple years, so I tried to explain that we don't _start_ with the violence, although it is nice to finally be able to check properly in the women's game." Engineer Swift explained, before imbibing again.

"Eh, it probably doesn't matter," Doctor Fawkes said. "Katebrica's smart, and ver confusion will probably be good for ver doctoral thesis, anyway."

This was true. Studying humans and their behaviors was a vast and constantly-shifting discipline, with papers regularly published by humans and non-humans alike, many of which flagrantly contradicted each other on the same subjects. It had been easiest to obtain funding and admission to a program that focused on studying the ability of humans to pack-bond, and a stray reference to "Girls' Night" in a paper about gendered activities had seemed like a promising lead with few papers on the subject. As described, I had been expecting feminine-coded activities, such as claw-painting, fur-styling, and unsubstantiated rumors about the sexual suitability of other members of the ship crew. Only the last of those had happened, and only after Engineer Swift had drank distilled and refined alcohol instead of her usual fermented and brewed alcohol, and then requested the next morning that none of this information appear in my published work.

"Oh, drop the puck already!" Engineer Swift said, interrupting my thoughts and drawing my attention back to the game about to begin. Drone 7765-Firixital of the Greater Formic Mind had published a book suggesting that most intelligent species used games and sport as training for the skills that would be necessary for their continued survival. For many of the species of the galaxy, it was apparent this held true. I remember several different flying and diving competitions while I was still home, and many of the other crew that had read the work agreed their play experiences were practice for later experiences where the skills that had been honed in play were put to use in finding sustenance and shelter.

Human sport trains combat skills, to greater and lesser degrees of abstraction, and allows them to dissipate the feelings they generate through living, even vicariously through viewing of sport, and I worry sometimes that other sentients have not fully thought through what this really means. 

I returned my focus to the game in front of me to see one of the competitors bodily slam into another and send her sprawling to the ice, to cheers from the other humans in the room.

"She's going to feel that one in the morning!" Botanist Kerrigan said, drinking some of her own drink, made from putting the leaves of the plant that she was named for in hot water for specified amounts of time. 

The sound of a whistle interrupted the game and generated a chorus of groans from the humans. The holoscreen saw the player who had delivered the blow being escorted to a space off the ice. "What the fuck?" Engineer Swift said. "That was a clean hit!"

"But the other player was knocked over completely," I said. "Surely that warrants penalization?" 

"Nah," Doctor Fawkes said, tail swishing with irritation at what she had seen. "She kept her skates on the ice, she led with her shoulder, not her stick, and she tried to play the puck first. Wallace just got reminded to keep her head up, that's all."

I still do not fully comprehend the differences between acceptable and unacceptable conduct during human sport. Especially because so many of the rules for human sport are, as Engineer Swift says, "to prevent someone from _actually_ being killed" as much as they are to preserve fair play and to ensure the participants have a relatively equal chance of victory. And yet, despite such a clear warning about the dangers of engaging in the sport, humans continue to engage and view it and encourage it. It's very clearly enjoyable for the humans, and apparently an entirely acceptable activity for "Girls' Night."

I continued to watch the humans as much as I do the holocast, trying to take cues from them and learn why certain actions provoke specific reactions. I am unsure how much of this is the vaunted human ability to pack-bond with anything and everything and how much of it is some specific knowledge to the sport being played out on the screen. After another hit that sends a player to the ice, instead of an appreciative cheer, there is a roar of anger from the couch sufficient to puff my feathers again. Before I can ask why, several of the members of each team have grabbed each other and are pulling themselves away from the space where the struck player is unmoving on the ice. The holobroadcast swings over to another part of the ice, where two players, one from each team, have discarded their protective equipment and are circling each other warily, fists raised with the intent to strike. Botanist Kerrigan and Engineer Swift have leaned in with interest to this part of the game.

"Why aren't the officials stopping this?" I asked, having spotted the black-and-white striping on one of the observers to the situation.

"They don't want to get punched," Doctor Fawkes replied. "Once someone goes down, they'll stop anything more."

"Kick her ass, Carrie," Engineer Swift shouted as the two combatants grabbed each other's uniforms with one hand and began punching each other in the face with the other, while receiving a similar treatment from their opponent. I could not speak, only watch in horror during the entire spectacle until one of the players landed a spectacular blow and their opponent crumpled to the ice, to the raucous cheers of all the humans watching. Immediately afterward, the official that had been observing put themselves in front of the standing fighter and pointed immediately to what I had assumed was the penalty area, but instead was the pathway behind where the teams sit. Several more players on both teams also walked up that pathway in the immediate aftermath of the fight.

"What happened?" I asked, when I was able to find my voice again.

"Five for fighting, two more for instigating, although I wouldn't be surprised if Duchene gets four for boarding and at least ten, if not game misconduct, for that hit," Engineer Swift said.

"What caused all of this?" I said, although I fear my voice betrayed my level of shock at the proceedings. It is one thing to understand in the abstract that humans are capable of frightening violence and another to watch it play out before your eyes.

Engineer Swift queued up a particular part of the broadcast and gestured at two players, one of whom was involved in the subsequent altercation. "Okay, see how this player is coming in to hit the player who has the puck? Notice how the player who has the puck is looking down and has their back to the person that is about to hit them? This is a no-no. You don't hit a defenseless player, first, but if you are going to hit someone, you don't hit them in the head or shoulders, you _don't_ lead with the stick, and you _definitely_ don't drive them into the boards like this. That's asking for a concussion, and if you deliver that hit, you should expect to receive a few like it in return, if not someone dropping the gloves, like Carrie did there."

"I thought fighting was forbidden by the rules," I said.

"It is," Engineer Swift replied. "It's a major penalty, and it's a near-certainty that both fighters will be ejected from the game for this, be suspended for several games afterward, and have to pay a hefty fine to the tournament organizers, but there's no way a dirty hit like that couldn't go unavenged." 

I must have still looked confused, because Engineer Swift turned to Botanist Kerrigan. "Jazz, take over for me. What's everyone drinking?"

"I'll make my own tea, thanks," Botanist Kerrigan said.

"More beer for me," Doctor Fawkes called. "And some water for Katebrica. Ve looks ready to bolt to the rafters."

"Coming up," Engineer Swift said, before reappearing with several bottles in her hands. 

Engineer Swift has been commended for most shifts without accidental biological contamination. Doctor Fawkes has been repeatedly commended for effective diplomacy in inter-crew disagreements. Yet they both seemed perfectly willing to accept that immediate violence was a solution to the problem of another player performing actions outside the rules.

"Did you ever get in a scrap like this?" Botanist Kerrigan asked Engineer Swift.

"Nah," Engineer Swift said, waving her hands dismissively. "It's really frowned on if a goalie gets into it, so I mostly stayed out of fights. Doc, you're the fighter, right?"

Doctor Fawkes barked a quick laugh. "If by that, you mean that one time where I knocked a Bruins fan's head into a table when the Kraken won the Cup the first time. Didn't like that I'd dyed my tail in support of the team and thought it was a prop that he could pull off," she added. "Still have the scar from the lucky shot he got in before he passed out from getting his ass kicked repeatedly."

I once made the mistake of asking Engineer Swift about human history. They recounted to me the regular occurrence of widespread fatal diseases, destructive acts, and the regularity in which humans choose to settle in places that would kill them mercilessly, but for advances in science and engineering that keep them at bay. Which would make for a species that is tougher than many in the galaxy, but Engineer Swift then recounted the many different failed ways that humans attempted to govern themselves and others, the planet-wide conflicts and the use of weapons of mass destruction over differences in philosophy, and the ease in which a situation that is supposed to remain peaceful can spark incredible amounts of violence seemingly at a whim, and how difficult it is to contain that violence when it is unleashed. To hear Engineer Swift recount human history, I understand more why so many of them proclaim their continued existence to be due to the direct intervention of entities beyond this universe. Sometimes melodically.

Battle-boasting done, the humans returned their attention to the holobroadcast, occasionally interjecting with their opinion about whether or not a particular infraction had occurred, as if they could communicate to the officials through their holo systems. I have observed this on multiple occasions on sport broadcasts, but also during movies. Botanist Kerrigan is particularly fond of giving advice to the characters in holomovies about their life choices. The advice is usually sound about avoiding places with insufficient illumination or where a known homicidal human is, but I do not understand why Botanist Kerrigan thinks the characters in the movie will do anything other than what they were already recorded doing. Engineer Swift assures me they understand they cannot do anything, but insists that some characters' decisions cannot go by without significant mockery. I have studied the common vocal inflections humans use to express derision and scorn, and Botanist Kerrigan's remarks do not match those tones. When pressed, Engineer Swift said that some humans become extremely involved in the stories being told, and the idea of a good story is to make you forget that it is fiction.

I am becoming increasingly concerned about the mental health and stability of humans. Ingestion of poisons for recreation is one thing, but their propensity for large-scale violence does not go well with an inability to separate reality from a fiction. Engineer Swift, Botanist Kerrigan, and Doctor Fawkes had all immediately discouraged me from continuing that line of inquiry, even after having learned about many of the tragedies of human history. Perhaps some other researcher will provide illumination on those matters. For now, I must continue my studies on what constitutes "Girls Night" and why all of the literature on this subject seems to be supremely unhelpful when compared to actual human observations.


End file.
